


all bets are off

by bevcrushers (dothraloki)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Established Relationship, Implied Janeway/Chakotay if you squint, Improper use of bulkheads, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dothraloki/pseuds/bevcrushers
Summary: “Two day's replicator rations says everybody knows by the end of the week. Four day's if it’s because of Old Tommy Big Mouth.”Tom thinks about it. “And if it’s two weeks, like I said? And Harry ‘Earnest’ Kim does the blabbing?”--tom and harry think they're having a secret relationship but the problem is that they're bad at it





	all bets are off

**Author's Note:**

> nothing particular NSFW in this just quite a few mentions/implications of sex which is why i rated it mature

They get together after nearly two years of miscommunication and mutual pining that culminates in a spectacularly drunken kiss, poolside, during shore leave. Tom’s sure Harry’s going to chalk it down to a mistake - they’ll go back to the way the things were and Tom’ll just have to learn to forget about it - but Harry turns up the next morning, sheepish and just as confused as he is. They take things tentatively. Carefully. When they meet up at Tom’s quarters for ‘dinner-dates’ after duty shift, Harry is careful to high tail it back to his room for oh-six-hundred hours. It _is_ probably best to keep it to themselves. Voyager is a small ship, it’s community even smaller. Everybody is always constantly in everybody else’s business, and as soon as one person has gossip, so does everyone and their _sehlat_. Tom thinks they’re entitled to _at least_ two weeks of sneaky makeouts against bulkheads and shared knowing glances across the bridge before they’re anointed Voyager’s hottest new couple.

“Two weeks?” says Harry from beneath the bedcovers. His hair is stuck up in odd angles. “Someone’s optimistic.”

 “You don’t think so?”

“Try a week,” says Harry. “News around this ship spreads faster than the Rigellian fever. And besides, you’re not exactly…”

Tom pauses his search for their undershirts to raise an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly _what_?”

“Discreet?”

Tom snorts. “Okay, no way _I’m_ going to blow this – one look from Janeway and you’ll start spilling your guts. I know you, Harry.”

Harry's attempt to appear offended is undermined by the quirk of his lips. “Well if that’s you think - what do you say we make this interesting?”

“I’m listening."

“Two day’s replicator rations says everybody knows by the end of the week. Four day’s if it’s because of Old Tommy Big Mouth.”

Tom thinks about it. “And if it’s two weeks, like _I_ said? And Harry ‘Earnest’ Kim does the blabbing?”

Harry shrugs. “The same.”

Tom grins and leans over to shake his hand, before pulling him in to brush a quick kiss on his forehead. “You’re on.”

-

Tuvok finds out that very same day and neither of them can figure out _how._

They’re having a late dinner in the mess hall at the end of a very long and boring duty shift - nothing but dead space and the occasional gaseous nebula. The mess hall is deserted as they sit opposite one another, discussing Tom’s latest holodeck programme idea through hamburgers and fries. They’re arguing about whether to configure a jukebox for historical accuracy in their fifties diner, when the door hisses open and Tuvok steps in, haughty as ever. One look at his face – if you know where to look – tells Harry they’re about to be on the receiving end of a withering dress down.

“Mr. Paris.” He stops at their table, ramrod straight.

Tom glances up as he squirts more ketchup onto the patty.

“I had anticipated that now you and Mr. Kim are copulating, your time would be better spent than reconfiguring my holodeck programmes.”

Harry chokes on his mouthful of soda.

“Copulating?” Tom manages, strangled. The red flush reaches all the way up to his hairline.

Tuvok barely seems to notice their surprise – either that, or he doesn’t care. “Furthermore, if you cannot keep your ‘pranks’ to yourself, I have no choice but to take this matter to Commander Chakotay,” with that, he turns and heads back to the door.

“Tuvok, wait,” Tom isn’t stupid enough to miss the threat behind his words. He stands to his feet, breathing out an uncomfortable laugh. “We’re sorry.”

The commander turns on his heel, eyebrow raised.

 “If you promise not to tell Chakotay about…this,” he motions between himself and Harry, “We promise to keep away from your programme.”

Tuvok surveys them, as if checking for signs of deceit. “That is acceptable.”

“Bribery?” says Harry before he can stop himself, Tom nudges him in the ribs.

“Vulcans do not take bribes, Mr. Kim,” Tuvok’s gaze is pointed and laser sharp. “This may be regarded as an…understanding that suits both of our prospective interests.”

-

B’Elanna finds out, and this time, okay – it’s Harry’s fault.

He’s drifting off as he repairs the conduits, thinking about the date he and Tom had shared in the holodeck yesterday - or more accurately, the sex afterwards back at Tom’s quarters - when B’Elanna clears her throat and he nearly bangs his head on the Jefferies tube casing.

“Okay Starfleet,” she says, when he turns to face her. “Spill.”

“Spill?”

Her fingers settle on her hips, looking every bit the disciplinarian. “ I’ve given you a wide berth these past few days, Harry, but now I want answers.”

Harry blinks. “B'Elanna, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So, you’d rather I spell it out for you?” She begins to tick them off on her fingers. “You never come out after duty shift anymore, you’re never in your room and Vorik tells me you’ve been _distracted from work_ –”

“Vorik said that?”

“ - you’re distant - having a conversation with you is like talking to a bulkhead. Something’s up. And either, you can tell me what’s happening, or I can go to Janeway, your call.”

He opens his mouth to respond. Futilely. B’Elanna raises her eyebrows, unamused, already anticipating bullshit. He can't believe she would snitch on him, but he's not willing to call her bluff.

“Fine,” he sighs after a moment. “Fine. I’ve been seeing someone. Happy?”

B’Elanna narrows her eyes. “Who?”

“It’s doesn’t matter, who.”

“It matters when it comes to my engine room," she says, firm. "And it matters if you’re _lying_.”

“I’m not lying,” he’s indignant. “It’s just… a secret.”

He regrets it the moment he says it. B’Elanna doesn't even dignify it with a response but he can almost hear the flat, _“what are you, in fourth grade?”_ telegraphed by the tilt of her head, the quirk of her eyebrow. She regards him, sceptical. “You’re never usually this coy, which means it must be something serious.”

“I don’t think - ”

“It’s not Kes, is it?”

“Of course not!”

“I admit, doesn’t sound like you. Or her,” he can almost hear her mind working. “I just can’t think who else it could be.”

Harry shifts his weight. “B’Elanna…”

“You would never be this secretive about someone like Nicoletti or Delaney. It has to be someone important, someone…” she looks up at him now, sly grin sliding across her face. She looks like the cat who got the cream. “Someone in the senior staff?”

Harry bites his lip. His poker face had always been bad - up against B’Elanna he doesn’t stand a chance and she knows it.

“It’s probably time for my break,” he says.

“Not for another five minutes,” she barely even pauses. “It is, isn’t it? Someone on the senior staff?” she stops to think about it. “But most of them wouldn’t entertain fraternizing with an ensign, and you’re not particularly close with anyone but me and - ” He sees the exact moment it dawns on her - her eyes turn saucer wide, mouth dropping open. He grabs her by the arm, steering her firmly, hastily into her office.

“ _Paris?_ ”

Harry casts a backward glance over the rest of Engineering. “You want to keep your voice down? I’m sure someone in the airponics bay didn’t _quite_ hear you.”

“He finally got his act together, did he?” she looks almost impressed. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think he had it in him.”

Harry frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, Harry,” B’Elanna snorts. “You can't surely be that naive. You have to have noticed how much he adores you. He looks at you the way Neelix looks at Kes, the way _I_ used to look at Max.”

“Really?” something inside of him lurches, warm. He can’t help but smile. “You think so?”

She stares at him. “How are you both this stupid?”

He laughs and she softens, clasping him gently on the arm. It's unusually intimate for B'Elanna, and he relishes the gesture. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you." Her voice turns hard again, but the grin is still there, just below the surface, "And you can tell that _petaQ_ of yours that if he does anything to hurt you I’ll break his arm. That’s not a joke.”

*

 

B’Elanna promises not to tell, as long as he doesn’t let his ‘heart-eyed, mushy lovesickness’ interfere with engineering again. As Harry heads to the mess hall, he grins. He can’t deny, having someone to share it with – one of his closest, most loyal friends nonetheless– it fills him with a kind a giddy joy.

Tom is less than pleased.

“She said that?” says Tom over lunch, horrified. “Why would she say that?”

Harry is smug. “Because she likes me.”

-

The Doctor’s discovery is by far the worst.

When they drag themselves into sickbay later that night, red faced and studiously avoiding each other’s gaze, the Doc doesn’t seem to notice it. It’s only when he’s scanning them both, tricorder in hand, that he frowns, eyebrow furrowed. “What did you say caused your injuries again?”

Harry’s staring at the floor, looking as if he’d rather be somewhere, anywhere else other than here. 

“Rock climbing on the holodeck?” Tom offers. It sounds weak, even to his own ears.

“Hm,” the tricorder flashes again. “Some of this bruising doesn’t look all that consistent with injuries sustained by holodeck horseplay. In fact, if I didn’t know any better…” he looks up, sharply. Tom averts his eyes. His whole face is on fire.

“Goodness,” is all he says. “Might I suggest, a little more safety taken, next time?”

“It’s not what you think, Doc,” says Tom, quickly. “I mean, sure we got a little carried away, but it was just an accident, really. We were play fighting and then we were - ”

Harry coughs. Loudly.

“Well, cut a long story short,” Tom’s laugh is nervous. “We fell. Into some furniture.”

“I see,” he waves the dermal regenerator over Harry’s skin, and gradually the purple-red bruises begin to diminish. “Well, it all seems superficial, though you may be in some mild pain for a few hours.”

“You won’t tell anybody, will you?” Harry asks.

The Doctor frowns again, regarding them both. “About…your injuries…?”

“About us. Me and Harry.”

The Doctor glances back down at the tricorder, as he runs the regenerator over Tom’s shoulder. “Frankly, gentlemen, I neither care nor possess the subroutines to breach doctor-patient confidentiality.”

-

When the door chime goes at oh-five hundred hours, Harry’s mostly still asleep which is why he allows entry, thinking nothing of it. He registers, groggily, the hiss of the doors, the thudding of shoes against carpet, and then a sharp gasp. Harry’s eyes open and he comes face to face with - _Neelix._

It takes more than a few moments for his lethargic brain to take note of the pale, freckly arm flung across his chest, the blonde hair just barely visible over the bedsheets. Then he’s grasping the covers, face flushing. “Oh God.”

Tom’s eyes open blearily at the sound. “Neelix?”

The tray of food Neelix is carrying clatters loudly to the ground, Tom rolls out of bed, grasping around desperately for clothes, or a towel, or _anything_ to cover his modesty. Harry buries his entire head under the sheets.

“My – my – my apologies, Mr. Kim,” Neelix is stuttering. “I didn’t think you’d – I thought – I –"

“It’s fine, Neelix,” Harry struggles, pulling the sheet down below his face. “I didn’t realise it was you.”

Neelix is staring at the ceiling as Tom scrambles for his shirt and pants. “I-I just came to bring you some of the tomato basil soup, I’d made. Remember, you’d said it was your favourite? I guess I got a little excited and I – I’m really, very sorry Mr. Kim, and Mr. – uh, Paris.”

“It’s fine,” Tom is mild. “Not your fault.”

“Oh goodness, and I made a mess all over your floor.”

“Don’t worry about that,” says Harry, too quickly – anything to get this exchange to _end_. “We’ll sort it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” Tom is ushering Neelix to the door, half-dressed now in pants and one of Harry’s shirts. “Goodbye, now.”

“But I –"

“Talk to you later, Neelix,” Harry calls from the bed as the door shuts in his face.

Once he’s gone, Harry breathes out an embarrassed sigh, covering his face with his hands. The bed dips as Tom sits on the edge, laughing.

“So, what was that you were saying about Old Tommy Big Mouth?”

*

At breakfast, Neelix won’t look Harry in the eye as he ladles scrambled eggs onto his plate.

“Well,” Tom says, once they’re seated, grinning around his coffee cup. “On the up side, I think Neelix is probably too mortified to tell anybody.”

-

Tom’s not sure he’ll ever know how Kes finds out.

Harry ambles in during Tom’s shift in sickbay with an update for the Doctor’s programme. As they wait for it to initialise, they make idle, and what Tom imagines is nondescript conversation – about duty, about the bridge, about the latest holodeck programmes – nothing evenly remotely incriminating.

“Wanna grab dinner after your shift?” Harry asks once he’s finished, engineering PADDs tucked under his arm. “Neelix’s special today is chicken and rice.”

“I’ll comm you once I’m done,” says Tom, as he has done a hundred times before. He barely lets his eyes linger when Harry turns to leave.

As the sickbay doors slide shut, Kes looks up from her own PADD. Her smile is secretive and small.

Tom glances at her. “Okay?”

The smile broadens, sincere. “I'm very happy for you and Ensign Kim, Lieutenant.”

-

Harry has his fingers Tom’s hair, pinning him against bulkhead. The kiss is quick and rough and dirty, Harry’s teeth biting as his bottom lip. What had started off as a quick, cheeky peck on the lips had turned into…this, not that Tom’s complaining. He groans into it, relishing in the feeling of fingers on his back, on his arms, on his neck, as he mentally calculates the shortest route back to Harry’s quarters.  

The sound of a throat clearing sends them flying apart. Harry’s hair is mussed, uniform ruffled, lips bitten red – Tom can’t even imagine how he, himself looks. He wipes a hand over his mouth and turns to face Chakotay, who surveys them like two miscreants. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Chakotay glances between them. “Oh?”

“I mean, it is, but we were –"

“You were?” He prompts, flatly.

Tom’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles to think of an adequate excuse, Harry is, of course, staring resolutely at his shoes. The tips of his ears are pink.

“I understand the excitement of a new relationship, but this is the kind of adolescent behaviour I expect from first year cadets, not from members of a senior staff, and certainly not _on duty_.”

 “Sir, I –”

Chakotay raises a hand, cutting Tom off. His tone is mild, but his glare is sharp. “If I witness this lapse in professionalism from you two again, I’ll put you both on report. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they reply.

Chakotay nods once. Before he turns to leave, the resolute set of his jaw softens momentarily into something like amusement. “In the mean time, I urge you to learn the meaning of _discretion_.”

Once he’s gone, Harry looks over at Tom, stricken and pale.

“Yeah,” Tom's sigh is uneasy. “I know when I’m beat.”

-

“You’ll never guess what I just discovered,” Chakotay says by way of introduction as he steps into the ready room.

Kathryn tears her eyes away from the computer screen to look up at him. “Paris and Kim are sleeping together.”

“You knew already?”

“Of course, I knew,” she stands now, stepping round her desk to take the PADD from him. “It’s all anyone’s talking about. I’ve heard it five times already, twice on the way back from the mess hall.”

Chakotay rubs a hand on the back of his neck. His sigh is weary. “Why am I always the last to know about everything?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that, Commander,” she grins. “I’m not sure Tom and Harry are aware of just how far the gossip has travelled. It seems they’ve bribed damn near everyone to keep their mouths shut.”

Chakotay can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “So, everybody’s pretending just to spare them?”

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” she laughs. “I’m not sure how long that situation will last, but I’m sure everyone will have good fun with it.”

There’s a beat of comfortable silence as they take their seats on the green, plush couch.

“Tom and Harry – well, I admit, I never saw it coming,” he says eventually, glancing over at her. “They make sense together.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, considering it.

 “I think,” she says carefully, all brown eyes and smiles, “that it’s about time already.”

-

 

“Do you get the feeling everybody already knows?” says Harry, as they make their way to the turbolift. It’s closing on three weeks since they made their bet and he hasn’t so much as glimpsed a hushed whisper or meaningful smirk.

“Are you kidding?” says Tom as doors slide shut behind them, shoulders brushing together easily. "Of course, they know. Neelix isn't that good at keeping a secret, first of all. But, I for one, am happy with the arrangement. Less time deflecting stupid jokes, and ignoring comments, more time making out with you."

Harry's smirk is halfway between fond and suggestive. "Computer, deck six." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> for the purposes of this story b'elanna told harry about her and max. i love the concept of harry and b'elanna as really good, close friends.


End file.
